Wine and Parties
by pippinwitch
Summary: A short (3 chapter) lord of the rings fic. my first one. The night after their wedding, Aragorn and Arwen's friends throw them a party. All is well until Gimli declares a contest, which the ladies wisely stay out of. Good thing the men have no such sense!
1. So It Begins

   The June sun set golden on the distant horizon and the people of Minas Tirith celebrated the wedding of the King Elessar and Lady Arwen Undomiel. The inns of the city were packed with soldiers and citizens toasting long life and peace upon the happy couple. Standing alone at the pinnacle of the white tower, Aragorn smiled down on the thronged streets. His friends, he knew, had organised a celebration party in the citadel for Arwen and himself. But before he went down to join them he felt he needed a few moments of quiet thought to convince himself that today had not been a dream. His greatest hopes had come true, Mordor had fallen and Arwen was his bride. 

   Still smiling, he turned and descended to the citadel.

* * * * *

'I mean it Gimli,' Legolas said in exasperation, 'Aragorn already knows of this party whether it is a surprise or not. He _always_ knows.'

   'Rubbish!' Snorted Gimli. 'I have kept the arrangements so far under wraps that the Valar themselves surely do not suspect. Now, go and think of some excuse to bring him here!'

   'There's really no need for that.' A quiet voice said behind him.

Gimli jumped violently and glared at the grinning king. 'Aragorn! How did you get in here without anyone seeing? Rangers! They're as bad as elves sometimes, sneaking up on decent people when they least suspect!' The dwarf shot a suspicious look at Legolas, trying to work out if the Prince of Mirkwood had told Aragorn of his plan. Legolas shook his head.

   'I did warn you Gimli.' He said, his voice coloured with obvious amusement.

   'No matter,' Aragorn broke in. 'It will be a splendid party anyway. Shall we get a drink?'

The friends made their way to a table running down one side of the long hall that was weighted down with good food and wine. 

    The party was a friendly affair; with musicians playing pipes and fiddles for the guests to dance to. Candles burned brightly as the night descended on them. After some time a black and silver liveried servant called them all through to dinner. The men with dinner partners escorted their ladies to the huge feasting hall. Every food possible was laid on for the joyous marriage celebration. The friends feasted, celebrating the return of peace and those who had fallen in the war with the shadow.


	2. The Joys Of Drink

    Some hours later everyone was stuffed full of food, not to mention beer and Elven wine. Already slightly tipsy, Gimli made a very rash decision. Standing up on his chair he banged his goblet on the table for quiet.

  'I,' the dwarf began, swaying very slightly, 'I, Gimli son of Gloin of the lonely mountain, challenge any here brave enough to a contest of endurance.

  'Endurance of what precisely, Master Dwarf?' asked Aragorn, grinning with his suspicion of Gimli's answer.

  'Alcohol!' He replied. 'Any kind they choose!' 

Legolas opened his mouth to tell Gimli not to be foolish, but Aragorn reached across behind the dwarf and touched the elf's arm. At Legolas' questioning look he winked, this could prove to be amusing.

  'Very well, Legolas said, 'Gimli, I accept your challenge.

  'As do I!' called Aragorn. 'This may be my last chance to be un-kingly before the city council catches up with me!' the former ranger laughed.

    The four hobbits, Gandalf, Eomer, Faramir and Prince Imrahil also declared their intention to compete. Eowyn looked like she was also going to accept, but Arwen shook her head.

  'We ladies shall leave you to your revelry. Come Eowyn, they will all regret this decision on the morrow.' The radiant new queen gave her husband a gentle kiss on his cheek and then rose to lead the ladies to their quarters. The men of Rohan and Gondor also took their leave, muttering about duties the next morning. 

    When the doors had swung closed behind them the remaining men called the servants to fetch as much wine and ale as they were able. 

  'Shall we say last man standing triumphs?' commented a smiling Gandalf. 'Or last Wizard, Elf, Dwarf or Hobbit as it may be. I wonder where Elrond is, he never used to miss a drinking contest.'

Sam choked on the ale he was drinking. 

  'Lord Elrond, drinking contests?!' he spluttered. 'But he always seems so serious, beggin' your pardon, sir.'

Gandalf banged the hobbit on the back.

  'Yes Sam, he is now, but he wasn't always so responsible. Not during the second age, anyway! I'll tell you about it sometime.'

  'Well,' Gimli announced when all glasses and goblets were filled. 'The last one standing is the winner. Let the toasts commence!'

    From that point on, the atmosphere became distinctly informal. Toasts started fairly sensible, but after the first twenty or so things got slightly rude.

  'A toast!' yelled Gimli. 'To the eternal happiness of our new king and queen. May they produce many heirs and ever be busy in the bed-chamber!'

  'A toast to my dearest Arwen! May her beauty never fail before my manhood does!' hiccupped Aragorn, spilling his wine as he drank. Faramir laughed uncontrollably.

  'A toast to second breakfast!' bellowed Pippin.

  'Hear hear!' agreed Merry. 'I toast Frodo, for bravery in the face of nasty things!'

Frodo's reply was covered by a loud crash as Sam fell unconscious off his chair. The Ringbearer giggled so hard he dropped his ale. A grinning servant replaced it immediately while another went to carry Sam to his chamber.

  'One down!' cried Eomer.

Servants were being kept very busy refilling glasses, many struggling not to laugh at the toasts being yelled.

  'I toast the beauty of the lady Galadriel! Here's to the nicest breasts in Middle Earth! Shouted Gimli. The dwarf was red in the face and had to struggle to stand up. Comparatively, Legolas and Imrahil, because of their Elven heritage, were fairly sober. The remaining hobbits were paralytic. As he tried to stand to give the next toast Merry lost consciousness.

  'Two down! And it doesn't look good for the hobbits!' snorted Aragorn.

Legolas rose to his feet with slightly less poise than usual. 

  'I toast the sun, the stars and the beauty of women!' he declaimed and took a huge drink of wine, draining his glass in one. Seeing this, all the rest downed their drinks. Frodo swayed as he lowered his goblet. He blinked once or twice, hiccupped and fell to the floor, followed closely by Pippin.

  'Four down! It's all over for the hobbits!' giggled Imrahil, finally showing the effects of the ale.

  'New rule!' Faramir said thickly. 'Each toast must be a whole glass in one! This should separate the men from the orcs!'

  'So be it! I toast the freedom of the plains and the warmth of a pretty woman's flesh against your own!' Eomer toasted rudely. They all downed a glass of alcohol, laughing.

  'I salute the Valar, and the gift of the ability to love Eru gave us!' Gandalf said. His hat had fallen off and as he tried to drink his own toast he slid gently off his chair.

  'Five down!'

  'I toast dwarven women, the best of all in the bedroom!' said Gimli loudly. He drank, but halfway through the goblet his stomach rebelled and he vomited. 

  'oops….' He began, but he couldn't finish as he collapsed, too drunk to stay conscious.

  'Gimli loses!' Legolas laughed tipsily. 'Six down!'

  'I toast the folly of those who start contests they cannot stomach!' bellowed Aragorn.

  'I'll toast that!' roared Eomer, taking a huge gulp of beer. Beside him Faramir slipped down in his chair as he fell asleep. Noticing, Imrahil yelled, 

  'Seven do..!' he failed to complete his comment. He joined the others in unconsciousness. The faint traces of Elven blood in his veins had not been enough to keep him sober.

  'Correction Imrahil,' said Aragorn. 'I make it eight down!'

  'Three left. Who'll make the next toast?' asked Eomer.

Legolas stood again, this time completely lacking Elven grace. 

  'Umm….' He declared eloquently, trying to think of a new toast. The Wood-Elf had drunk a lot of wine before the competition even started and now his brain seemed to have been stolen. 'Umm.. I toast our sires and grandsires for loving our mothers and grandmothers and making their love known physically!' He took a mouthful of wine, choked and fainted to the floor. 

  'Two to go!' said Aragorn. 'I salute women, for their grace and beauty, not to mention their bodies!' 

  'I'll definitely toast that!' agreed the new King of Rohan.  The two kings gulped down their drinks. 

  'Your turn.' muttered Aragorn.

  'Mfff..' replied Eomer. 'Where's the table?' he wondered stupidly, resting his drunken head on it and falling asleep. Aragorn prodded him, the man didn't move.

  'Ten down! I win!' The King of Gondor grinned slowly. He heaved himself out of his chair and raised his glass.

  'I declare a toast to me!' he drank the wine and collapsed as his knees gave way.

    Laughing and joking at the expense of the unconscious lords the servants moved in to carry them to their beds and clean up.


	3. Consequenses

Disclaimer: see author profile page.

Thanks for the responses from everyone who took time to review, I'm glad so many of you found it funny. The comments are appreciated, really! 

    Deana, you said you wanted to see Legolas with a hangover, so here you are!

# # # # #

    The next morning Legolas woke with a groan. For the first time in years he had to prise his eyelids apart, usually they were open anyway. When his eyes finally opened he decided it had definitely not been worth the effort. Raw sunlight blazed through the open curtains, creating wild splotches of colour as he blinked painfully. As his vision cleared slightly he lay back on the pillows, taking a mental inventory of his injuries. Legolas decided he had a headache like twenty smith's hammers pounding in his brain, his vision was blurred, his stomach was turning violent somersaults at the slightest movement and it really wasn't a good idea to try and remember what had happened the previous night. All in all, things were not looking good for the Elf.

    He rolled sluggishly out of bed and shakily stood up. Instantly the pain in his skull tripled, his vision wavered and he felt as though he would throw up. Dazed, fighting with his rebellious stomach, the Prince of Mirkwood staggered across the wide chamber to the washstand. The reflection in the mirror above the basin was shockingly different from his usual pristine appearance. The smooth golden braids that were always tidy were unravelled and clumps of long blonde hair stuck up in all directions, giving the effect that he had combed his hair backwards and then been dragged feet first through a thick hedge. Legolas was always pale, but today his face had a nasty greenish tinge to it. His normally sharp eyes were vacant and the pupils were huge. He groaned again, almost wishing he were mortal so he could just die. 

    Slowly the Wood-Elf collected fresh clothes and pulled them on, having noticed he still wore the ones from the last night, they stank of wine. He deeply regretted doing whatever he had done last night and was almost glad he could not remember. Wincing from the pain in his head he began to comb his hair.

*** * * * ***

    Shortly before four in the afternoon, eleven shuffling, staggering figures headed to the small dining chamber for some sort of breakfast.

    All of the friends were distinctly the worse for wear. They had little or no memory of the previous night's events and sat sipping hangover cures and clutching their heads until a while later when the ladies glided in.

    'Good morning, or should I say _afternoon_?' Arwen said, being deliberately loud and cheerful. 'You men all look very awake and ready to go today.'

The other women laughed. The only response she received from the wilting men was a selection of glares for being so loud.

    'I suppose I should be thanking you Arwen.' Said Eowyn, grinning. 'If you hadn't stopped me I would have drunk these men into the floor. I would have won, no man will out-drink me, but I'd be suffering the same kind of torment as these poor fellows.'

She leaned close to Eomer's right ear, looking like she was going to comfort him.

  'Greetings, brother!' she yelled. 'How goes it with you this afternoon?'

Eomer felt like his head would fall off. He blocked his ears and cursed at his sniggering sister.

  'Well, we shall leave you to be antisocial on your own.' declared Arwen. 'I bet you do not remember half of what you did last night. Oh dear, and they were such lovely toasts we heard from outside the door!'

    The ladies laughed again and swept out, leaving the men trying desperately to remember what they had said.

    It was not until some hours later, when more of the alcohol had worn off, that they were able to recall their actions. They spent several days in crimson cheeked embarrassment, avoiding each other as much as possible with the sniggers of women following them everywhere. Eventually the event ceased  to be mentioned, but none of them ever forgot the awful price of drinking contests.


End file.
